


coffee and sugar

by Chiropter



Category: Shuuen no Shiori Project
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, F/M, Internalized Homophobia, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-03
Updated: 2014-03-03
Packaged: 2018-01-14 09:53:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1261957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chiropter/pseuds/Chiropter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>C-ta is gentle, like a prince or a butler, and D-ne dreams of breaking B-ko's ribs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	coffee and sugar

**Author's Note:**

> i held off on uploading this here because i didn't want it to be the first work in the ao3 archive for shuuenpro, but the CA fic i'm writing is taking much longer than i thought and i want to upload everything i've written recently. 
> 
> please note that if you're looking for CD fic, this is not that. this was an experiment to see if i could find a way i myself shipped them, because i don't, and one-sided (?) CA and BD are implied. 
> 
> anyway, this is consensual, but uncomfortable. also, creepy soft gore thoughts from d-ne. OKAY LET'S GO.

“What are you saying!?”

There’s fear in his voice and you love it. He stands across the room from you, legs apart but back hunched, caught in a freeze-frame while setting down his bag. His eyes keep darting to the door, and you’re sure you know who he’s looking out for. Tough luck, C-ta.  Isn’t it good that you both came early today?

“I haven’t known you long, but… I’m already finding you annoying.”

His expressions are so… readable. So delicious. You smile, very sweetly, as you watch the thoughts race through his head. How far do they go, you wonder? How deep in is he? Has he, too, had dreams where his hands turned red?

He doesn’t reply, so you carry on-

“Looking at you feels almost like looking in a mirror sometimes. You must have noticed? What’ll happen if he has no need for you, which may already be the case; you just don’t have it in you to confront him, or your own-”

“ _Shut up._ ”

Oh, that glare is  _funny_. You knew it- that he was more entertaining than the front he puts up. It makes you giggle.

“…I’m joking. Well, anyway. I would like to become friends with you, I think. It would be beneficial for both of us, hmm?”

He doesn’t reply, and he doesn’t reply. God, is he stupid? It’s times like this that you’re glad you don’t like boys. He’s just… staring at you. Glowering. You’re about to snap your fingers or clap or something when the door opens, and both of you turn round. It’s _them_ , of course.

You watch C-ta carefully for the rest of the day. You notice most how his voice changes when A-ya’s in the room, and how his shoulders relax when he breathes.

\---

You corner him again after school. He still hasn’t said a word to you, but you’ve noticed him glancing at you nervously, as if you might suddenly announce your likeness to the world. There’s something heavy in the air between you.

“Well, have you thought about it?” you smile. He’s staring at you with those wide eyes again, and when he replies, his voice is hoarse, strained.

“…What do you want from me?”

You’d been waiting for him to ask, but really, you’re not quite sure.

“I told you. I wouldn’t mind being your friend- ally, even.”

He seems to struggle with his words, but manages to smile back at you.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking, D-ne, but he’s my best friend. That’s really all. Maybe you’ve been reading too many stories online…?”

You giggle and take a small step closer.

“Oh, that’s more B-ko’s kind of thing. Though one wouldn’t know from appearances, I suppose. Not to say I don’t enjoy those things, but… you know, I much prefer another kind of story…”

C-ta swallows visibly but continues smiling, and, somewhere in you, you feel- admiration?- at the skill of his act, and triumph for breaking it down. After all, he didn’t become one of the most popular students in the school with the expressions he showed you earlier.

“I’m your friend now, aren’t I?” you say sweetly, and he laughs, which makes you smile wider in turn. “You should trust your friends! No?”

“…No.” His face gradually relaxes, though it seems he’s struggling to force it to. He stares at you for another few seconds and sighs, folding his arms. “A deal, huh?”

You almost didn’t expect him to agree, and now that he has, you find yourself at a loss again, unsure if you ever really wanted more than just to unsettle him, feel a little less alone. Yet there’s something tugging at your throat now. You feel sick from it- like fear and excitement, rolled into one. A thick, grey smoke in your lungs. You take another step towards him. Something stirs in his green, green eyes, and what you’re about to do- what you were, perhaps, always going to- seems to dawn on you both at the same time.

You barely speak. Barely even take off your clothes. You push him against the desk and he makes a weak protest- maybe you shouldn’t be doing this here, maybe you shouldn’t be doing this ever- but he trails off while you fiddle with his tie. He’s looking right at you, but you know he isn’t really seeing you anymore. That suits you just fine.

You lean in to kiss him and his hands are at your waist, sides, chest- no, wait, he flinches back from that. You grin.

“Ruining your little fantasy, you filthy homo?”

He glares at you silently, but you feel your smile drop a little as you look into his eyes.  _‘Hypocrite’_ , they’re saying,  _‘you hypocrite.’_

…Shut  _up._

Now your mouth is clashing with his again, and it’s clumsy and sloppy and awful and his teeth scratch your lips, and you know that if it were  _her_ it’d be soft; you know that she’d taste sweet, that you’d melt together like milk and coffee. C-ta’s mouth is dry and thin. He doesn’t taste bad, but he doesn’t taste good, either; he’s certainly not meant to be here, you realise, pressed against you and digging marks in your back. The realisation is somehow freeing. You’ve always thought your feelings were sick and wrong, but what could be more wrong than this? You break away and tilt your head.

“…I’m not letting you do me in the butt, by the way.”

“Wh- Shut up!”

You giggle, and to anyone watching from a distance, you know the two of you would look like the perfect couple. Good, quiet girl and pretty, popular boy. A match made in heaven. Ha.

His teeth on your neck are gentle, so gentle. The kisses he presses to your skin barely even brush you. You hate it. Maybe he wants to be the perfect prince, but you’ve never wanted gentle love. No- you want to climb inside her. Listen to her pulse ringing through your fingertips, feel her bones creak side-by-side with yours. Her eyes burning inside your skull.

As he lifts up your skirt, you wonder if he finds your body as disgusting as you do his.

The whole thing is weird and quick. You had a condom in your bag (“You never know!” your mother had said, and inside you’d laughed yourself silly. Well, joke’s on you now, isn’t it?) that neither of you really know how to put on, but after a bit of fumbling you get there eventually. He’s not really hard. He doesn’t seem to want to touch you anywhere too soft, and you don’t want to touch him anywhere that isn’t soft enough, so in the end you mostly just claw at each other’s backs; even his nails are too flat, even his fingers. You close your eyes and think of B-ko while he mumbles A-ya’s name into your collarbone.

When it’s over, you sit in his lap, panting. Neither of you bother to move just yet. You lean forwards and rest, for the first time, against his chest. You feel odd. Calm, satisfied, and like insects are crawling through your guts.

“…Are you afraid?” he asks you quietly. His voice is very small.

“Afraid? Whatever of?”

“I… they… they’re growing up,” his voice cracks, “he’s growing up. He’s going to leave me. He’s going to forget.”

“I’m not so pathetic as to be scared by that,” you tell him, and you aren’t, because B-ko won’t forget, “…but, hm. I’d be a fool if I wasn’t a little bit frightened.” Admitting it is like spitting up acid.

He gives a weak smile.

“Ahaha, what are you afraid of, then?”

You trail a finger down his chest, finding that it doesn’t feel so wrong so long as it’s mocking, so long as you can still be above him. And there’s no doubt you _are_  above him. How much of a moron is he, to even consider letting the one he loves get away?

“I suppose I’m…” you trail off. That can’t be right. C-ta plays with your hair absently, and it feels sort of nice. Look at the two of you. Disgusting, vile, unnatural. Maybe you belong together.  You try again.

“I suppose I’m scared she’d laugh at me.”

Yes, that makes much more sense. Of course she’d laugh. The only people who like girls like you are old men, touching themselves in grimy bedrooms. Not that it really matters to you. You could show your true self to anyone, everyone, and B-ko is the only one whose laughter would hurt.

C-ta nods, and suddenly you find the sympathy in his expression repulsive. You become aware again of the weird, foreign  _thing_ inside you and pull off him as fast as you can, wincing at the horrible noise. It still feels gross- you don’t know how you’re going to walk home like this. C-ta stands up too, and you don’t say a word to each other as you hurriedly put your underwear back on.

You leave first, without even waving goodbye, and he doesn’t try to stop you.

\---

By some miracle, A-ya catches flu the next week, and since it’s generally assumed that C-ta will only show up if A-ya does, the club meeting ends up getting cancelled. Instead, you and B-ko go to catch up on homework in the library.

Usually, B-ko’s presence is a comfort- today, however, being with her feels strained. Her hand brushes yours as she leans over you for a sharpener and a wave of nausea washes over you as you remember where your hands have been. Ah, look at you, tainting this poor girl in every way you can. Why- why is she so perfect? Why are you so monstrous? Who decided it should be this way?

“D-ne, are you okay?”

She’s looking at you curiously, with a touch of concern. You want to hurt her, to pull off her skin and glue it to your bones.

_Keep looking at me like that. Keep looking forever._

 “Ah, I’m fine,” you smile back at her, “I was just thinking how pretty you look today. Did you trim your hair, perhaps?”

“…I did! My dad kept going on about how scruffy I looked, you know, because I usually only see him in the mornings when my hair’s still really messy… well, I had a go at him, of course, but looking in the mirror I realised he might have a point. So I…”

You let her ramble on, studying her every movement, the way her voice rises and falls, wondering if you really could be just like her. The thought almost makes you shudder. Why, why is it so frightening?

_Because. If I became her, where would D-ne go?_

It’s what occurred to you before, back in the classroom with-  _him._ It seemed ludicrous then, but watching B-ko now, the threat feels more tangible.

_Why should I care where D-ne goes? I hate D-ne. D-ne isn’t worth anything._

You shake your head as subtly as you can, in a weak attempt to clear it.

“…Hey, you sure you’re alright?”

B-ko is looking at you again, and her eyes are so, so beautiful. That bubbling mix of love and jealousy you’re now so used to froths up inside you again and you shoot her another smile, this time more faltering.

“I think I might be unwell, actually. Oh dear, you don’t think A-ya gave me his cold?”

As soon as you mention him, you regret it; the way her eyes brighten with interest is all too obvious.

“Jeez, he better not have! I’m gonna have another go at him for you, next time I see him…” she growls something under her breath that sounds a lot like ‘stupid idiot’, and you can’t help but smile. She is so  _cute_  when she gets angry. You love that about her the most- that she’s always wonderful, no matter what turn her mood takes.

…but. You’ve never seen her talk about  _you_ like that. Not with such passion. All of a sudden you need her to stop.

It’s on impulse, not even a particularly strong one, that you lean in and kiss her. It’s on impulse that you cup her face as you do so- on impulse, only, that you push a strand of hair behind her ear. Your smile, however, is deliberate. Her eyes widen and her cheeks glow pink and oh, you could just eat her up.

“Wh… why…?”

The you in your head and the you with your skin speak at the same time, reverberating through your skull.

_“Because I love you, B-ko.”_

All you can think as she jumps up and runs away is how right you’d been. Bitter, soft, and with a lingering sweetness.

_Let me pour into you._

You’e known it for a long, long time, but now it comes clear in your thoughts in a single revelation- that if this is an illness, you’re not sure you want to get better.


End file.
